“You’re too much”, he said.

Too deep. Too lively. You’re too much light.

Because the universe was inside of her, and because she was the universe, she could feel the stardust that formed the very ends of her fingertips. She looked up at the stars in awe, stared at the Milky Way in its grandiosity across the sky, and imagined billions of light-years ahead of her. A conquistador of the universe.

“You feel too much”, they said.

She loved looking into beautiful blue eyes and seeing a nebula there instead. She was all energy and light, all-aware of the miracle that it was that she was concious that she was here right now as a clump of clumsy atoms put together. She wanted to stare endlessly at the strong will of the ocean and wished she could have just a tiny piece of it.

They were starting to break her. “You’re too weird”, they said.

It’s like she didn’t fit inside the box.

She was a supernova – collapsing into her own light and death.

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